Tube Riders, The (26 page)

She was out.

She brushed herself down as she stood up and looked around. The moon glowed brightly in a cloudless sky, a black sheet scattered with glimmering stars, stretching away to meet a slightly lighter blue pushing up from the gentle curve of distant rolling hills. Far away, in a hollow several miles distant, she saw the scattering of lights that indicated a small town. Nearer, though, perhaps just a few feet away, across a flat open pasture dotted with large round humps (which she knew from a childhood book to be hay bales) she saw other lights, four, five maybe, moving about.

People.

Jess smiled with relief, both at being out of the forest and to find there were other people out here after all.

The first natives of this foreign land.

She looked around for the nearest hedgerow, but the field seemed to stretch for miles in either direction. The huge bales would have to be cover, then.

Crouching low, she darted from one bale to the next until she was just fifty feet from the moving lights. Cautiously, she leaned out.

The light was coming from a couple of paraffin lanterns set down in the grass around a large truck trailer and from the torches several men were carrying. She counted six men in all, the glow from the torches revealing them as young, maybe just a couple of years older than her. All of them wore shabby overalls which looked black or brown. Working together, they were rolling the bales up a ramp on to the trailer.

At first, the performing of such an arduous task without the help of any kind of machinery made Jess think they were stealing them, but the snatches of conversation that she caught told her different.

‘Six more, boys. Then we’ll call it a night.’

‘Six? We’ll be here til midnight and I wanted to grab a pint!’

‘We can be done by ten-thirty if we move quick. And anyway, if you boys want to come by mine when we’re done, I got a few cold ones in the fridge and a hot pack of cards just waiting to take your money.’

‘Sounds like a challenge!’

‘Got an early start though, eh, lads.’

‘That old sod Weston booked the cab to come by at seven tomorrow, take the first load. Weather’s gonna turn, so forecast says. Got to get these boys undercover ‘fore then.’

‘Curse on Weston for flogging off his forklift. We’d have done the lot in half an hour.’

‘Well, what I heard was that the council took it. Government rechartered it, gave him a payoff. Like they been doing with the cars.’

‘Cities are running out, seems.’

‘Huh. Seems like everything is, ‘cept beer.’

‘Don’t complain ‘bout that! Dumb government want to throw beer at us like water who are we to complain?’

Jess frowned. In London beer was illegal. You could get it on the black-market, of course, so readily that many people thought the government was actually supplying it. Here, though, it seemed people were drinking it unrestricted. She wondered what else they had.

A light suddenly flashed in her eyes.

‘Hey! You boys see that? Someone out there!’

‘No–’

‘I did, looked like a lass! Hey, you!’

Footsteps in her direction. Jess gripped the knife and looked about her. She had weapons, but six guys in the dark would be impossible to fight against. And they were a long way from any help.

She glanced left, right, then picked an area ahead where the bales were numerous. She glanced back to see what head start she had, then sprinted across the field, the sharp stalks of the cut hay scratching her ankles.

‘There she is!’

‘Hey you, maid, wait up!’

‘You from the village? Shouldn’t be out here after dark!’

‘Come here, we won’t hurt you!’

Jess didn’t give them the opportunity to prove their word. She ducked behind the nearest bale and dropped to the ground, shuffling deep into the recess left by the curved edge. A moment later the men jogged past, torches flashing back and forth. She knew they wouldn’t maintain the chase for long, so she quickly scrambled back out, rounded the bale and jogged back to the trailer where they’d left their lamps burning.

Behind the trailer, a gate opened on to a lane. Jess glanced back, hearing a few more shouts out across the field as the men continued their search. On the edge of the trailer she found a small plastic lunchbox next to one of the lamps. She grabbed it then quickly extinguished the lamp and took that too.

As the men’s shouts came nearer as they returned to the trailer, Jess took her treasure and ran for the road.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Freedom Fighters

The handsome man called himself Ishael. Now, as he sat facing the Tube Riders, the four of them sitting in a row on an old, musty-smelling sofa, he rubbed his chin, picking at a piece of stubble. ‘So, let me get this straight. Those damn broadcasts are about
you?
’

Marta, holding a steaming cup of delicious tea in her hands, nodded. ‘It seems so. And now we have the DCA, Huntsmen, and God knows what else on our trail. We’ve not had a great last twenty-four hours, let’s put it that way.’

‘That’s a fucking understatement and a half,’ Switch muttered.

‘Well.’ Ishael leaned back in the chair. His gun was back in a holster on his belt, but one of the other men was guarding the door to the small meeting room where they had brought the Tube Riders, a gun held loosely in his hand.

‘That’s a pretty good reason not to kill us, don’t you think?’ Owen said.

‘Be quiet,’ Paul scolded.

Ishael smiled. ‘On the contrary. You realise that by being here at all you compromise our own safety? If you’re right about Huntsmen being after you, they’ll follow you right here. Perhaps we should just kill you and throw you out for them.’

‘You have weapons, you can fight them,’ Switch said. ‘Give us a bunch of guns and we’ll stand out there and wait for the fuckers. All we have is knives and other lame shit.
Mostly
other lame shit.’

Marta couldn’t help but smile at his crude attempt at modesty. They had been searched by Ishael and his men, and while herself, Paul and Owen only had their clawboards, Marta’s pepper spray and a couple of knives, Switch had yielded up a veritable armoury of his own. The men had looked quite impressed by the array of knives, throwing stars and other weapons. He’d told them with a proud smirk how he’d lost his nail gun in St. Cannerwells, but not before taking out a DCA agent.

‘You’ve survived so far,’ Ishael said, raising an eyebrow at Switch. ‘Anyway, say they come here and we somehow kill them? Two days later they’ll send more. If we manage to kill those, they’ll roll out the entire army. We can’t win. Do you have any idea how many prototypes they have? Handing you over might be the best way to keep ourselves alive.’

‘But you’ll expose yourselves,’ Marta said.

Ishael shrugged. ‘We’re just a smalltime gang, of no consequence to anyone.’

Switch scoffed. ‘No “smalltime gang” has that many guns, man. We might have stumbled in here by luck, but we know what you are. You might as well admit it.’

Switch was right, but as Marta watched his face as he spoke, she couldn’t help but think that luck had nothing to do with it. Switch had known exactly who he’d find when he led them here.

Ishael looked at each of them in turn. ‘I don’t think you’re in a position to ask us to admit to anything. We have the guns, remember.’

Switch grinned. ‘Come on, man, if you were going to kill us, you’d have done it already. And if you
are
freedom fighters as I’m pretty certain you are, you’re fighting against the very people who enjoy doing that sort of thing.’

Ishael raised an eyebrow. ‘You’d better hope you’re right then.’

Marta was getting tired of the banter. She shifted forward on her seat. ‘Can you help us get over to France?’ she asked.

Switch, sitting beside Marta on the sofa, glanced at her. For once he looked taken off guard. His bad eye twitched like crazy. ‘France?’ he muttered. After all, they’d not really talked about what would happen after they got to Bristol in any realistic terms.

Ishael smiled. ‘What exactly did you do so wrong that you need to get to France?’

Marta had thought about it a lot over the last few hours, during which they’d been allowed to rest by Ishael’s men. While Paul, Owen, and Switch had slept a while, Marta had lain awake, considering their options. Getting out of the country seemed like the only sensible thing to do. Quite
how
to do it was another matter.

‘We watched the Department of Civil Affairs murder the European Confederation’s ambassador,’ Marta said. ‘They then set his death up as an act of terrorism, and we were shouldered with the blame to give them a reason to hunt us. We had proof, but ... our friends didn’t make it. It’s left to us now to pass the information on and I’d say that setting the Huntsmen on us proves how important we are.’

Ishael’s tone went suddenly serious. ‘You said you had proof?’

‘A friend of ours recorded the Ambassador’s murder on a digital camera. But ... the memory card got lost.’

‘Then who’s going to believe you?’

Marta spread her hands. ‘Well, who in Mega Britain has actually
seen
the Ambassador? He hasn’t made any broadcast appearances, yet all of us saw him with our own eyes. We can describe him, even what he was wearing.’

Ishael’s face changed. Suddenly his doubts had been replaced by hope. ‘You think anyone’s going to believe you?’ he repeated.

Switch nodded towards the door. ‘Where did you get those guns? They don’t exactly grow them on trees over in Wales, you know.’

Ishael smiled. ‘Quite right. Maybe we can help you after all. What happened to the others? The ones with the memory card?’

Marta exchanged glances with Switch and Paul. ‘We don’t know for sure,’ she said. ‘We got … separated. Out in the GFA.’

Ishael grimaced. He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin. ‘That’s unfortunate.’

‘But now we’ve found you…’

Ishael stared at her, his eyes narrowing. ‘You said you found us by chance? That’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think? That of all the people in Bristol that you could run into it just happens to be us?’

Marta and Paul both glared at Switch. Owen chuckled. ‘Sometimes you two are as blind as that Huntsman we ran into. He runs circles round you.’

Switch grinned again. He looked at Ishael. ‘Okay, you got me. It was all a bit vague until I saw that fence. Then I remembered. Figured you guys might still be camped out right under their noses, being the last place an enemy looks, and all.’

Ishael looked at him. ‘If I thought you were a government spy you’d be dead by now. So how did you–?’

‘I’ve been here before.’ He paused, leaning forward on the sofa to fix Ishael with a stare. ‘I used to be one of you.’

Everyone was staring at him now.

Ishael’s hand dropped to his gun. ‘I think someone might remember you. Perhaps I was wrong–’

‘Calm down, man.’ Switch held up a hand. ‘I wanted to ask before, but I guess I was hoping to surprise him, and I haven’t seen him about. Is William Worth still with you people by any chance? It’s been a few years, but ...’

‘William? Yeah, William’s still here. But how the hell do you know ...’ the words failed on Ishael’s tongue and he stared open-mouthed.

Switch spread his arms. ‘I’m Steve Worth, man. The long lost son.’

Ishael’s hand fell away from his gun. He turned to the guard by the door. ‘Go see if Will’s back yet,’ he commanded, voice hollow with shock. ‘My God–’

‘William’s still doing good?’

‘He’s great.’ Ishael’s handsome features appeared to have taken on a red sheen. ‘I didn’t, um, recognise you, Steve.’

Switch smirked. ‘Well, I’m not ten years old anymore, and you know, the eye. You can’t plan for these things, eh. I remember you too. I used to take the piss out of your stupid name, but I guess that’s what you get when you grow up in a gypo commune. I see you’ve jumped up the chain of command. Cleaning pots last time I saw you, wasn’t it?’

‘Someone had to do it.’

‘Well, you’re looking pretty dapper these days too, I notice. So did Marta.’ Switch jabbed an elbow in her side.

Marta felt her cheeks bloom. ‘Shut
up
, Switch,’ she said, suddenly feeling no older than Owen.

Ishael too, looked a little uncomfortable, but before he could reply Paul rescued both of them by changing the subject. ‘Do you mind explaining what’s going on here, Switch? You said you had an uncle in Bristol. You forgot to mention he was part of an underground resistance group!’

Switch shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up. People die young in this country.’

‘Where the hell is he?’ came a loud voice from the corridor outside, and Marta jumped as the door burst open. A muscular Afro-Caribbean man stepped into the room, a beaming grin on his face. His curled hair was slightly greying, but his face lacked any meaningful age lines. The only real age was in his eyes.

‘Stevie! Is that really you?’

‘Hey, Unc! Long time no fucking see!’

Switch jumped up from the sofa and was swallowed up in a huge bear hug. William’s face looked like it would crack if he smiled any wider, and Marta thought she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes, the light of answered prayers. She found herself smiling too. She listened to William’s laughter, great heaving gasps, and realised he was sobbing, tears streaming down his face. She thought about her brother, and her own eyes filled with tears.

William pushed Switch out at arm’s length and looked him up and down. Switch was no more than a toy in his huge hands.

‘Oh, my boy! My
boy!
I never thought … Goddamn, you’re so different!’ William pulled a hand across his face to wipe away tears. He frowned. ‘What the hell happened to your eye?’

Switch grinned. ‘I jumped off a train and hit a wall,’ he said, causing William to bellow with laughter.

‘As good a reason as any,’ he said, and Marta was not sure if he believed Switch or thought it was a joke. Switch was grinning but Marta remembered the day it had happened, the sickening thud he’d made as he slammed against the wall, the way he had seemed to slide down to the breakfall mats in slow motion. Her, Paul, Simon and a couple of others they’d been riding with had gone running over, expecting the worst. Switch had looked up at them through one bloody eye, and muttered, ‘Fuck, that
hurt
.’

‘Uncle, you haven’t changed at all,’ Switch said. ‘I was expecting you to look older.’

‘Ah, you’re too kind,’ William said. ‘I always wondered what became of you, Stevie.’ His eyes welled up again. ‘I should never have let you go out that day…’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Switch said. ‘The damn government keeps fucking people in the ass, and it’s about time we turned around and fucked them right back.’ He turned to the others. ‘Uncle, these are my friends, Marta, Paul, and, um, Paul’s brother.’

‘My name’s Owen, you wanker,’ Owen said.

William roared with laughter. ‘Got spirit, this one. Like you had!’

The others were looking at Switch with questioning expressions. The physical resemblance was not exactly close. Switch explained, ‘My natural parents were killed in the riots, I think. I’d been through one or two bad foster homes before Unc took me in.’

‘I was taking a nap on a park bench,’ William said. ‘I felt this tugging on my shoe. I kicked out, and when I looked up I found Stevie here lying flat out on his back. He must have been five or six, and I’d just flattened his nose, blood everywhere. He’d been trying to steal my shoes. Six sizes too big for him, but hey.’

‘I was going to sell them.’

‘Man, that kid’s spirit impressed me,’ William told them. ‘So I took him in. I raised him as my own, right here in this place. But, fuck, I turned my back. You can never turn your back, goddamn…’

‘The government was rounding up street kids and transporting them up to the Manchester-Liverpool GUA to work in the steel factories,’ Switch said. ‘I was down at the homeless shelter scrounging a free meal, and the next thing I know I’ve got two guys dumping me in the back of a truck. I was ten years old, but one of those guys is half blind now.’

Marta smiled. She didn’t doubt that for a moment.

‘After a few months in some sweatshop in Manchester I was moved again, down to London where I was put to work cleaning the crap out of some abattoir.’ He shook his head, grimacing at the memory. ‘Those plastic mops, snap them and sharpen up the broken handle ends, that’s the way I did it. Left the guard captain to bleed to death among the pig carcasses. Got out, took a bunch of other kids with me, and the streets looked after me from then on.’

William laughed. ‘That’s my boy.’

Owen was beaming at Switch. ‘Man, if I ever get to be as cool as you…’

‘You’re doing okay as it is,’ Paul said, putting an arm round his brother’s shoulders, but shooting a look at Switch that clearly said,
don’t encourage him
.

William couldn’t keep the smile off his face, but he said, ‘I’m glad you’re back, Stevie, but I hear you have more problems.’

Switch gave him a brief account of the last day. ‘We have to get out of Bristol,’ he concluded.

‘To France,’ Marta added.

William turned to Ishael. He raised an eyebrow. ‘If we can get these kids across to France, do you think they can raise us an army?’

Ishael shrugged. ‘All the ports are closed except those transporting freight along the coast. Even if we could get a ship away, there are sea mines moored ten miles offshore. Not to mention the damn coastal guns, the patrols…’